


strike another match, go start anew

by cherry_darling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, lol idk this made sense at the time?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_darling/pseuds/cherry_darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The infuriating thing about Potter, Draco thinks that night when he’s tucked up in bed, is that he’s the only person who isn’t judging him and Draco thinks he might like that. (Or, Draco and Harry become friends and run away together.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	strike another match, go start anew

we have the answer to all your fears

it's short, it's simple, it's crystal clear

it's round about, it's somewhere here

lost amongst our winnings –

(nick cave & the bad seeds, _o children_ )

 

 

 

 

You could drown in those eyes, I said,

                                                                                  so it's summer, so it's suicide,

so we're helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool. –

(richard siken, _little beasts_ )

 

 

 

leave your stepping stones behind, there’s something that calls for you

forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you –

(bob dylan, _it’s all over now, baby blue_ )

 

 

-

 

After the battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy goes to bed for two weeks. Narcissa worries but says nothing. She leaves him trays of food on his bedside table and sits next to him while he watches her through his lashes and waits until she’s away to roll onto his other side and open his eyes.

 

Lucius doesn’t visit him at all, but he expects that.

 

He doesn’t eat and he wakes from nightmares of men with red eyes and snakes and children screaming with a cold sweat on his brow and his shirt sticking to his skin.

 

Narcissa cries in the kitchen over her tea.

 

-

 

She makes amends with Andromeda because Andromeda was a Black before she was a Tonks, just like Narcissa was a Black before she was a Malfoy and Draco suspects his mother misses Bellatrix and maybe she regrets what she’s done, but he doesn’t think too hard on it.

 

He tries to avoid thinking too much, these days.

 

It takes Andromeda another four weeks to forgive her sister and they are still a little tense when Draco and Narcissa visit once in early July (Lucius didn’t come, again, they both expected that), but they embrace and Andromeda kisses Narcissa’s cheek and they both cry a little bit and, for the first time ever, Draco wishes he had a sibling.

 

Draco offers to babysit Teddy.

 

-

 

They go to a Muggle park.

 

Draco picks a Muggle park because Muggles don’t recognize him. They don’t gasp when they see his face or sneer and say, “Thought you’d died. Wish you had.” And if he says, “You Know Who” they wouldn’t know who.

 

He decides that is a comforting thought.

 

Babysitting Teddy has become routine, since Narcissa is busy cleaning up his father’s messes and Andromeda is busy helping her and working and Lucius refuses to even look at the boy and so for a few hours a day, Draco is free to take Teddy to as many Muggle parks as he wants and all he has to do is sit on a bench and read and look over the top of his book to make sure Teddy isn’t getting into trouble and burp and feed him and sometimes change his diaper.

 

(He gags the first few times he has to deal with bodily fluids and excrement but he realizes he seen – and smelled – worse, and after a few days, he’s a pro.)

 

He’s reading _The Catcher in the Rye_ and the illustrations on the cover don’t move and the characters are so mundane that Draco loves it right off the bat. Holden Caulfield doesn’t believe in blood supremacy or get himself wrapped up in something too big for him to handle at sixteen or worry that if he fucks up, someone will murder him and his entire family. He doesn’t really relate to Holden at all and he loves it.

 

Muggles are polite to Draco when they see him and sometimes, girls will sit next to him and try to make small talk and Draco gives them short, clipped answers to get them to leave him alone. He makes up back stories for himself – he’s Charles and he works as a mail carrier or he’s Dave and he’s a bartender or he’s Timothy and he works at a bookstore or – or –

 

He wants to escape.

 

-

 

He avoids the dining room at Malfoy Manor. There are too many memories.

 

Actually, he avoids a lot of rooms.

 

-

 

Draco reads to forget You-Know-Who and Harry Potter and his father and his mother’s tears and red eyes and hissing and bodies and flashes of green light and terror and the screams and maybe he wants to forget his entire life.

 

Teddy crawls around in the grass and tugs at the leg of Draco’s trouser.

 

“Bit young to be a single father, aren’t you?” comes an amused and all-too-familiar voice from behind him.

 

Harry Potter sits down next to Draco and stretches out his long legs. It reminds Draco vaguely of all the girls that have sat down next to him and tried to engage him in conversation and he figures that Potter will be scared off if he answers in grunts and shrugs like they were. “Actually, I found him in a parking lot and snatched him up,” he mutters softly, turning a dog-eared page.

 

Potter, however, just chuckles. “Your aunt said I would find you two here.”

 

Draco raises one eyebrow. “How do you know my aunt?” and it’s just fucking _perfect_ because he’s gone a month without seeing anyone he knows from The Old Days (as he’s started calling them) except his mother and father and now Harry- bloody-Potter has to come and waltz into his perfectly dull life.

 

“I knew her daughter and son-in-law,” Potter reminds Draco in a light tone and matches Draco’s raised brow. “I’m Teddy’s godfather.”

 

“Beg your pardon?”

 

“Remus Lupin made me Teddy’s godfather.”

 

“Oh.” Draco continues reading and prays that Potter will get the hint and leave him the fuck alone.

 

Potter doesn’t, however, and Draco remembers that The Boy Who Lived was also a bit obtuse so he decides to make the point plainer: “Fuck off.”

 

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Potter asks with wide, innocent eyes and Draco fumes silently and turns a page in his book. He will absolutely _not_ lose control in the middle of a public Muggle park and ostracize them like he’d managed to ostracize the entire wizarding world, so he just ignores Potter and keeps reading.

 

And that’s how Draco Malfoy spent an entire afternoon sitting on a bench with Harry Potter and his second cousin.

 

-

 

Of course, it would be far too easy for Potter to just leave him alone, so the next day when Narcissa and Draco arrive at Andromeda’s house (Draco to babysit and Narcissa to collect her sister to go do... something), Potter’s there, having tea and chatting with his aunt.

 

He stands up and nods courteously at Narcissa. “Mrs Malfoy,” he says, his voice deep and a bit thick. Draco is a bit pleased that Potter clearly hasn’t forgotten that he owes his life to his mother.

 

Narcissa smiles at him a little and arches one perfect eyebrow at Potter. “Mr Potter,” she returns. “What brings you here?”

 

“Andromeda asked if I would lend a hand to Draco in watching Teddy,” Potter answers, eyes flickering to Draco for a moment before he looks back at Narcissa.

 

She blinks a little and stares at Andromeda, whose face remains unreadable. “Well, then,” she says. “How… lovely.” She walks to her sister and links arms with her. “Andromeda will be back around three,” she tells Draco as she grabs a handful of Floo Powder and tosses it into the fire. “I love you,” and she kisses Draco on the cheek because he overheard her telling Lucius that she’s scared whenever they’re apart from their son, so she reminds him every day how much she loves him.

 

Potter remarkably doesn’t snicker or make any rude comments after Narcissa and Andromeda vanish. “Park?” he offers. “Your aunt packed us a lunch and got you a new book.” He points at the bag on the table and Teddy gurgles appreciatively.

 

Draco just scowls.

 

-

 

The days pass like this: Narcissa and Draco arrive at Andromeda’s early in the morning. Potter is always there waiting. Narcissa and Andromeda leave. Potter carries Teddy to the park and Draco sulks behind them. Draco and Potter sit on a bench while Teddy plays in the sandbox or the grass. Draco reads. Potter tries to make conversation. Draco doesn’t pay attention, or at least, pretends not to. Teddy gurgles and sometimes, girls try to sit with them. Potter carries Teddy back to Andromeda’s, Draco in tow. Draco and Narcissa leave. Draco goes straight to his room and stays up too late reading and sleeps fitfully.

 

Then they wake up and do it again.

 

-

 

“I owe you, you know,” Potter says at the park one day. Draco doesn’t look up from his copy of _This Side of Paradise_. “You saved my life.”

 

“My _mother_ saved your life,” Draco answers crisply, still not looking up.

 

“Yeah, but… You were the reason why,” Potter tries.

 

Draco snorts. “So? You don’t owe me anything.”

 

Potter sighs and Draco can feel him lie back in the grass. Draco crosses one ankle over the other, legs stretched out, back propped up against a tree trunk. “It’s funny, isn’t it?” Potter says.

 

“What is?”

 

“Both our mothers sort of saved the wizarding world.”

 

Draco smiles a little despite himself.

 

-

 

One day, Draco is stupid and forgets his book in his room at Malfoy Manor and he figures it would look too desperate to ask Andromeda to borrow one of her books (and besides, he doesn’t want to read a wizard book) so he might be forced to actually listen to Potter’s inane ramblings and he can’t hide behind paper and ink anymore.

 

Potter looks a bit sympathetic and he doesn’t even try to strike up a conversation when they sit down together. Draco finds his thoughts wandering and finally he blurts out, “why are you here?”

 

Potter looks at him like he’s just grown two heads. “I’m babysitting,” he answers, like Draco is a challenged small child.

 

“No, I mean…” Draco struggles for words, “Why aren’t you out there?” He flaps his arms at Out There and nearly takes off Potter’s glasses in the process. “Saving people. Being an Auror. Snogging Weaslette. Doing whatever the fuck Harry Potter does.”

 

“Because I wanted to help your aunt,” Potter says simply and adjusts his glasses. “Why are _you_ here instead of helping your mother clear your family’s name?”

 

Draco opens and closes his mouth a few times. “I wanted to help my aunt, too,” he finally answers weakly and he’s feeling far too vulnerable under Potter’s green gaze, so he looks away.

 

-

 

The infuriating thing about Potter, Draco thinks that night when he’s tucked up in bed, is that he’s the only person who isn’t judging him and Draco thinks he might like that.

 

He leaves his book on his bed the next day.

 

-

 

“Do you miss Hogwarts?” Potter asks a week later.

 

Draco snorts derisively and picks some grass off his shoe. “Not at all,” he answers. “I don’t miss anything anymore.”

 

The sun is too bright and Potter shields his eyes with his hand and smiles. “Remember when Snape would make us partners?” and Draco laughs despite himself and says, “yeah” and he supposes that they’re friends now. Or something.

 

Then Potter’s face goes serious. “Why are you here?” he asks.

 

And Draco answers, “Because I’m eighteen. And I don’t know what to do since the war is over. And all my friends hate me and people stare when I’m in Diagon Alley. I’m a bit hopeless and I didn’t finish school and I think I’m going mad and I’m scared and I don’t sleep at night.” He looks away and bites out, “Why are _you_ here?” and they’re a mirror of a few weeks earlier and Draco wants the ground to open up and swallow him because he’s just spilled his guts to Harry _Potter_ and then Potter clears his throat.

 

“Same here.”

 

Draco smiles and offers Potter some more of his crisps.

 

-

 

“Do you ever want to escape?” Draco asks Potter on a Tuesday.

 

Potter opens his left eye. They’re laying on their backs in the grass and it’s summer and it’s too goddamn hot and there’s sweat trickling down Draco’s spine and this is nice, he thinks.

 

“Sometimes,” Potter says and shrugs.

 

“Where are you living?” Draco asks him.

 

Potter shrugs again. “Sirius’s old house,” he answers quietly. “It’s… yeah.” He smiles up at Draco and Draco’s stomach does this odd flip-flopping thing. His mouth is too dry and he takes a drink of water. “Your family is kind of crazy.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Draco snorts. He settles back in the grass and their arms are kind of touching. “I want to escape,” he sighs after a moment. “The Dark Lord sort of took up residence at my parents’ house. I can’t – I can’t go into most of the rooms now.”

 

“Yeah,” Potter murmurs. They lapse into one of their comfortable silences and Draco wonders if that’s how you know you’re friends with someone – when they silence is enough.

 

A leaf falls, and swirls.

 

-

 

This is how Harry (because Draco has started calling him “Harry” in his head, but always “Potter” to his face for some weird reason), this is how Harry and Draco leave:

 

Draco tells Narcissa that he needs to go get a real job and that this house is no longer his home because of all the memories and that he’ll owl her every day and that he loves her. Harry gets Bill Weasley’s pregnant wife, the Veela, to take care of Teddy because she needs experience with babies or something. They go to Gringotts where they exchange some Galleons for Muggle money and then they’re off.

 

-

 

Muggle London is loud. This is the first thing Draco learns. It’s also a bit garish for his tastes – the touristy, double-decker buses, for example, he thinks are hideous and some of the clothes he’s seen remind him a bit of his Divinations professor, but it’s a change and he likes it. Mostly, though, he likes that he can walk down the street and no one spits on him or calls him names or gets a weirdly pitying look when they see his hair and pale, pointed face and whisper, “That’s Lucius Malfoy’s boy, the poor dear looks so _lost_.”

 

Harry slaps him on the back when they get off the tube and says, “All right there?” with this stupid grin on his sunburned face and Draco can’t help it, but he grins back.

 

-

 

Harry leads him to an apartment building and unlocks one of the doors with a disturbing amount of gusto. “This is our place!” he explains, throwing his arms out.

 

Draco purses his lips. “As if this idea couldn’t get any gayer,” he says with his usual disdain, but he’s laughing inside because he’s so fucking _happy_ and anonymous and he hasn’t felt this way in ages. “There’s only one bedroom,” he observes, raising an eyebrow at the single bed. “I hope you don’t steal covers in the middle of the night.”

 

“That’s where you’ll sleep,” Harry says. “I can sleep on the couch.”

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Draco mutters, tossing his bag down on the couch. “You saved the world. The least I can do is give you the bed.” When Harry opens his mouth to protest, Draco adds, “Besides, that ceiling is dripping,” and points to a leak just to the left of the bed.

 

-

 

They wander for the first couple of days and Draco marvels at how easy it could have - _should_ have been to be friends with Potter. He wonders how different school would have been, had they been friends, but he’s trying to forget, remember? He’s not going to waste his time on wouldhavecouldhaveshouldhave nonsense.

 

“You need to get a real job,” Harry says over a dinner of burgers and chips and reminds him, “You promised your mother.”

 

Last year, Draco would have made a comment, (“Wouldn’t know what that’s like, would you, Potter?” and curled his lip) but now the fight’s been beaten out of him and he just muses, “I did, didn’t I?”

 

Harry nods solemnly. “You did,” and takes a swig of Coca-Cola.

 

-

 

“I saw the sign in the window and would like to apply,” Draco says.

 

The pretty but bored-looking girl behind the counter at the run-down little record store just hands him a piece of paper and a pen and mutters, “Fill out the application,” and goes back to her magazine. She snaps her gum and is wearing too much jewelry.

 

Draco turns to Harry with an incredulous look and Harry just shrugs. “Just fill it out,” he says and tells Draco what to put where. Twenty minutes later, he passes the application back to the girl.

 

Her eyes flicker over it and she snorts. “Your name is Draco?” she asks.

 

He bristles a little. “So?”

 

She just shakes her head and goes back to the application. Then she _hmm_ s thoughtfully and says, “Congratulations, _Draco_ , you’ve got the job.” She holds out her hand to shake and Draco takes it tentatively. Harry claps him on the back so hard that he stumbles forward a few steps.

 

“Thank you?” Draco rubs the back of his neck. “That’s… it?”

 

The girl chuckles. “I like your name,” she says, by way of explanation. At his confused look, she adds, “We need help immediately. We’re desperate.” She winks at him. “Be here tomorrow at nine in the morning for your training,” she says. “Ask for me. My name’s Jude, like the song.” Draco just stares at him blankly. The girl says slowly, “You know…? The beetles song?”

 

“I wasn’t aware beetles could sing,” Draco says with a beaming smile, thinking she’s making a joke and Harry coughs behind him.

 

“They’re a band,” he mutters in Draco’s ear, tugging him away before he can do more damage. “Thank you,” he calls over his shoulder and once they’re out of the store, he does a little leap-skip in the air that reminds Draco a little bit of Gilderoy Lockhart. “We did it!”

 

“ _I_ did it,” Draco says loftily. “It was my name on the application.”

 

He beams at Harry anyway and revels for a moment in Harry’s pride.

 

-

 

Being a Muggle is easier than he expected. Draco learns it hard and fast – how Muggle money works, how to operate a cash register, how to order food, how to exist without magic. Sure, he writes his mother every day (he promised, after all) and he gasps when Jude shows him Velcro for the first time, but it’s easy.

 

(Anything is easy compared to last year.)

 

He rides trains that don’t offer chocolate frogs, passes schools that teach Dickens instead of Bagshot and and he loses the urge to reach for the wand that isn’t tucked into his back pocket.

 

He wears dark wash jeans and sorts records by genre and artist during the day. He learns what bands are cool and which bands are terrible and uses his employee discount to buy vinyls and tapes and take them home to Harry.

 

They spend their evenings listening to music that Jude recommended. Draco likes Nirvana and Radiohead and Hole and Garbage and the Velvet Underground, and Harry likes Elliott Smith and Tom Waits and the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. He uses his paychecks to pay rent and he buys marijuana from Jude and her sister, Eleanor (they joke that they have a brother called Max which Draco just laughs uncertainly at because he’s not that much of a Muggle yet) and he and Harry often smoke up when they’re both home, passing a joint back and forth with a bottle of wine on the floor or sitting on Harry’s bed watching bad television with the sound turned down low and blasting _OK Computer_ or _Revolver_ or mix tapes that Jude or Draco made at work.

 

Harry gets a job at a restaurant and he brings home cheeseburgers and chicken sandwiches and fish and chips for dinner. Their fridge is empty most of the time except for cheap take-out and bottles of soda and Draco thinks, “This is the life” without a hint of irony.

 

His nightmares stop after the second night.

 

-

 

“Did I ever apologize?” Draco asks Harry one evening. He takes a swig of red wine, picks at his food.

 

“For what?”

 

“For everything at school,” Draco mutters. “I was a little shit.”

 

Harry chuckles. “You were,” he agrees.

 

“And I always made those cracks about your parents and Weasley’s family and Granger.” It’s obvious that this has been eating up at Draco for quite some time and he coughs. “Then, you know, I started taking Teddy to those parks and the Muggles were nice to me. No one else was.” He lowers his eyes, fixes his pupils on a mark on their table. “I mean, they were only nice to me because they didn’t know who I was or what I’d done or the things I’d said and…” He clears his throat. “Why are _you_ nice to me?”

 

Harry blinks, probably trying to make sense of Draco’s ramble. “Because,” he says simply. “You didn’t tell Bellatrix who I was at your house when you could have. You gave us the opportunity to escape. I guess I kind of owe you for that.”

 

“And you repaid me by saving me in the Room of Requirement,” Draco reminds him. “So why are you still nice to me?”

 

“We were kids. Kids are… Kids are assholes. You were. Ron was. I was.” He shrugs. “Besides, you kind of stopped being an asshole once you turned sixteen.”

 

Draco sighs, clearly unhappy with this and puts his hands, palms down, on the table.

 

Harry reaches forward and sort of brushes his fingers over Draco’s. “Just don’t think about it,” he murmurs, and Draco smiles a little at him.

 

-

 

Draco doesn’t really refer to Harry as his friend, but they are. Sometimes Harry visits him at work and brings him something from the restaurant. He buys them wine and whiskey and they have a glass while they watch television. Draco still doesn’t really understand it, even when Harry explains it to him for the eighth time. The comedies aren’t really funny and the news is bland and tragic in a mundane sense.

 

When they aren’t watching television or getting drunk or high (or drunk _and_ high), they talk. Draco learns that Harry was just about to propose to Ginny Weasley (he’s stopped calling her “Weaslette” at Harry’s insistence and when did he start doing what Potter asked, anyway?) when he got a case of cold feet and they decided that it was better to be friends. Weasley and Granger were travelling together and Harry didn’t feel like imposing on Weasley’s mother again so he opted to live at 12 Grimmauld Place alone.

 

“Why didn’t you become an Auror?” Draco had asked and Harry had just said, “It was just too… I spent most of my life fighting. I’m tired of it.”

 

In a weird way, Harry’s the best friend Draco’s ever had.

 

Not that that’s saying much, but still.

 

-

 

This is how their days pass:

 

Draco and Harry go to their respective jobs in the morning. Draco gets home first and he watches television until Harry gets home. They talk. They smoke. They eat. They watch TV or listen to music. They go to bed. They wake up and do it again.

 

They don’t keep track of the days unless it’s a rent day. They isolate themselves and that? That’s okay by both of them.

 

_I feel safe with you_ , Draco doesn’t say.

 

He starts watching Harry’s closer, liking the way Harry flexes his fingers as he reaches for the bottle of rum and the way he rolls joints and the way his face lights up when Draco brings them new music.

 

-

 

“What does your mother think of your new life?” Harry asks, passing a joint to Draco.

 

“She doesn’t know,” Draco answers after taking a hit. The television is on, volume turned down low and Draco watches it for a few moments before turning back to Harry. “She thinks I’m working as a mail boy at the Ministry.”

 

“She hasn’t been to visit you at your new job?”

 

Draco chuckles. “My mother loves me, but I doubt even she would want to go into the owl room and risk getting shat on, just to see me.” He takes another hit, passes it to Harry and adds, “Besides, I told her not to.”

 

Harry opens his mouth and lets the smoke out and says, “I always envied you a bit. You had a mother and father who loved you.”

 

“Potter, did you forget that it was your mother’s love that saved all of our asses the first time around?” Draco asks.

 

Harry just shakes his head. He has this habit of sort of just saying shit when he’s stoned that Draco finds both annoying and amusing and right now it’s more sad than anything else. “I was jealous of Ron, too,” he clarifies. “Anyone with parents, really.”

 

“Even Longbottom?” Draco quirks an eyebrow. “I feel like his situation is worse than yours.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry says, looking down. They’re sitting cross legged in front of the couch on a worn blanket and Harry just sighs. “You know what I mean,” he mutters.

 

“I do,” Draco says quietly. He pushes some of Harry’s hair back from his forehead and lets his hand rest on the top of his head for a bit. He’s never really _nice_ to Harry, really, because he’s never been nice to anyone in his life, but he’s not so cold that he doesn’t know when he needs a little affection.

 

Harry leans forward and kisses him right on the mouth and Draco realizes that that wasn’t exactly the affection he was thinking of.

 

Harry’s lips are chapped and he tastes like weed and ketchup and Draco pushes his tongue into Harry’s mouth before he can think not to. He tangles his fingers in the black hair and pushes him back against the couch and kisses him again.

 

“What the fuck is happening?” Harry asks against Draco’s mouth and Draco thinks, _I really don’t know. I really haven’t the faintest idea_. Harry’s making all these weird, breathy sounds that remind Draco of Marilyn Manson (Monroe? He can’t remember) and his hands are on Draco’s hips, anchoring him down and he repeats, “What the fuck is happening?” and Draco finally answers, “I think we’re kissing” against Harry’s mouth and Harry pulls away. His pupils are all huge and his irises are green slivers and his face is flushed and his lips are pink and wet.

 

“So,” he says and scratches the back of his neck.

 

“So…” Draco answers and picks at the carpet.

 

“I have to get up early tomorrow,” Harry says and stands up. “So I should, uh…” He walks away and shuts the bedroom door behind him.

 

Draco curls up on the couch and falls asleep and wonders what it would be like to sleep in the lumpy bed in the other room.

 

-

 

He spends the next day sort of melancholy and he’s not sure why. He tells Jude the story over lunch (except he changes Harry to Henrietta, a young woman with a widow’s peak and blue eyes) and asks her opinion.

 

“I always thought you were gay,” Jude answers.

 

“What?”

 

She shrugs. “I mean, I always thought you and that kid with the glasses were fucking, that’s all.” She shoves a spoonful of yogurt into her mouth and shrugs again. “But, whatever. Um, maybe she’s just not into you like you are her.”

 

“Who said I was into Harry?” Draco asks and his voice takes on a shrieky pitch and Jude raises her pierced eyebrows at him. “Henrietta,” he corrects quietly and looks down.

 

“Um, okay,” Jude says and she snickers a little. “Maybe you should just tell _Henrietta_ how you feel and see how it goes from there, huh?” She finishes her yogurt and tosses the cup into a bin. “And if it doesn’t work out, then whatever,” she adds on the way out. “ _Henrietta_ seems like a lovely _girl_ , so I’m sure _she_ will understand and not hold it against you.”

 

-

 

For the rest of the day, Draco thinks about what happened the previous night and he thinks, _fuck me sideways, I am in love with Harry Potter_ and wonders if he could stand in front of the touristy, red, double-decker buses he hates so much and it would kill him. The suicide note would apologize to his mother, father and aunt (and possibly Teddy) and blame Harry for making him feel like this.

 

_Mother, father, Aunt Adromeda and little Teddy_ , it would read, _I’m terribly sorry to do this to you. I cannot go on living when I feel like this. As you know, I’ve been feeling poorly the last few months and it’s come to a head. I’m in love with a man and I have decided to rid myself of this pain and throw myself in front of a bus. Love always, Draco._

_P.S. fuck you, Potter._

 

It’s a start, he thinks.

 

-

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Trying to disappear.”

 

Draco can imagine Potter (because he’s Potter again) looking down at him with a knit brow and a frown. He might have his arms crossed and Draco tucks his forehead tighter to his knees, squeezing his eyes closed. He’s in the fetal position on the couch, covered in a blanket.

 

“Why do you want to disappear?”

 

“Because,” Draco mutters. “Leave me alone. Fuck off.”

 

Harry sighs and Draco hears him walk to the door of the bedroom. He hears a pause, another sigh and then the door click shut.

 

-

 

His plan of avoiding Potter until he thinks up a better plan might have worked, had he forseen that he was going to have another nightmare. He hasn’t had nightmares since they moved in together, but he wakes up screaming and sweating and panting and thinks he’s back in the Manor, so he gets up and blindly stumbles to where his door was and walks into a wall.

 

Potter comes out to see what the commotion is as Draco swears blue and green and clutches his bleeding nose.

 

“Nightmare?” he asks, his tone kind.

 

“You have no idea,” Draco mutters back.

 

“Voldemort?”

 

“ _Don’t say his fucking name_ ,” Draco hisses and he doesn’t care how childish and scared he sounds and Potter awkwardly lays a hand on his shoulder. Curiously, it doesn’t feel as repulsive as it should have and he doesn’t shrug it off.

 

Potter squeezes his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says gently and guides Draco to the couch.

 

“It absolutely is not,” Draco mutters darkly. “I had a nightmare like a _child_ and ran into a wall because I was running to my _mother_ like a _child_ would.”

 

Gracefully, Potter presses his lips together to stop the smile from forming. “It’s okay,” he repeats quietly. “No need to beat yourself up over a nightmare.”

 

Draco sulks and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. It’s stopped bleeding. “I suppose I’m absolutely covered in blood now.”

 

“You suppose correctly,” Potter says and fetches him a damp cloth from the bathroom.

 

They don’t talk about last night as Draco cleans himself up and Potter pats his shoulder again as he ambles into the bedroom. “I’ll leave the door open,” he calls, “Just because it might make you feel safer.”

 

“If you’re mocking me, I’m going to set that bed on fire,” Draco snaps back and tugs the blankets up to his chin.

 

Potter chuckles from the other room and Draco wonders if it would hurt terribly to throw himself in front of a bus.

 

-

 

“Your mother thinks we’re in love,” Potter announces on a Tuesday and Draco spits out the hot mouthful of tea.

 

“ _What_?” he coughs out and he almost falls off his chair. “Have you been reading my mail?”

 

Potter blinks at him. “Um, no. She wrote a letter to me, asking how I’m doing and added at the end that she’s very happy for us.” He holds up the letter and envelope as proof and Draco snatches it from him.

 

Sure enough, _To: Mr Harry Potter_ is on the envelope. Draco gapes at it, then Potter. Then he says, “I cannot believe her.”

 

“Well,” Potter says practically, “Are we?”

 

Draco’s jaw drops even more and Potter soldiers on. “I mean, you sort of did kiss me and we’ve been living together for like two months now and I think Jude thinks we’re together.”

 

“I _know_ Jude thinks we’re together,” Draco clarifies and goes a bit pink.

 

Harry (Draco curses inwardly) just looks extraordinarily pleased. Draco sulks a little. “So,” Harry says. “Are we together?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Draco snaps. “I don’t even like you,” but Harry seems to know what he means and he puts one of his hands over Draco’s and it’s comforting, the same way Harry was comforting and Harry kisses him, slow and gentle, and he thinks, _safe. When I am with you, I feel so safe_ , and Harry pulls away and Draco says, “leave me alone,” but he smiles and runs his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone.

 

 

 

end.


End file.
